


Of Evil Intent

by alexcat



Category: J R R Tolkien - The Silmarillion and other history of Middle Earth
Genre: Gen, J R R Tolkien, The Silmarillion - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-20
Updated: 2009-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 18:50:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexcat/pseuds/alexcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three of Feanor's sons decide to take one of the Silmarils back and fulfill their Oath, no matter the cost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Evil Intent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lanyon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanyon/gifts).



The scene was gruesome. Oropher walked through the empty city and could not believe what his eyes were seeing. The dead lay everywhere. Most were the citizens of Menegroth but scattered among them were many of the Fëanorians who had come to the city to take back one small stone and left it dead, never to rise again.

*

Several days before, three of the sons of Fëanor learned that King Dior finally had come into possession of one of the Silmarils, the one that Lúthien had possessed. They wanted it back so they began to plot, something that came naturally to these three in particular.

Violence came easy to Caranthir, Celegorm and Curufin. They were surely the most vicious of Feanor's sons. They had cheated, tricked and lied to almost everyone they'd ever met, even their cousin Finrod's people in his own city.

"We finally have a chance to fulfill our Oath," Caranthir said as he enjoyed a fine meal with his brothers. "The Silmaril is in the possession of Dior and all we have to do is take it."

Celegorm smiled a cruel and cold smile. "I cannot abide the thought that a son of Lúthien and Beren has one of our father's stones. She betrayed all elves when she chose a lowly human over an elf, especially one as high born as a son of Fëanor."

"All we need to do is gather our followers and confront them. I am sure that they will give up the stone when they see our numbers and our power," Caranthir added.

After dinner, the brothers called their devoted followers together. Celegorm spoke to them.

"Our dearest friends, the time has come to fulfill the Oath we made before we came to this land, an Oath to recover the Silmarils that our father forged no matter what. King Dior has one of the stones. We have asked for its return but Dior does not even acknowledge our demand so Caranthir, Curufin and I are asking you in the name of Fëanor to go with us to Menegroth and to take back what should never have come to Dior in the first place."

The crowd cheered, hungry for battle at the urging of their leaders. They stamped their feet and called out Feanor's name over and over.

"Go to your homes, kiss your wives and children, then take up your weapons and follow us!" Curufin shouted to them.

"We will be victorious!" Caranthir added to the din. The elves began to chant 'victory' over and over until they dispersed to do just as Curufin had told them to.

Caranthir turned to his brothers. "Do you believe that Dior will give up the stone without a fight?"

Curufin shrugged. "Does it really matter? We will have that stone, no matter what."

"And I will finally have my revenge on the house of Thingol and his cursed daughter!" Celegorm said.

It was a cold and bitter winter morning when the armies of the three brothers began to move upon Menegroth. They were not fools. They knew that most of the Sindarin elves would be hunkered down in the Thousand Caves, trying to keep warm against the snow and ice. The attack would be a complete surprise. They felt that victory would be swift and easy.

*

Menegroth was socked in. It was cold and snow had been blowing for two days. All but the hardiest were inside enjoying the warmth of a fireplace and family. No one suspected anything would be any different about this day than any other day.

No one but King Dior. He'd felt an uneasiness ever since he had ignored the demand from the sons of Fëanor that he return the Silmaril. He had no intentions of doing any such thing though he knew that more than likely, they would not go away simply because he had denied them what they wanted.

But he said nothing to anyone, not even Nimloth, his wife.

*

The attack came in the afternoon, out of nowhere it seemed. The guards were caught unaware as the Fëanorians stormed the entrance to the Thousand Caves, led by the three brothers. Those very guards were the first of many, many elves to die before the day was done.

Nimloth was in the family quarters with her two sons. She was helping them get ready for dinner with their father and the court tonight. It was not often that the three children got to dine with the adults but tonight was to be an exception.

The nurse was in little Elwing's chamber, helping the young princess choose a dress. Her father had promised that she could wear his special necklace tonight for a little while if she were very, very good. Not even her mother knew about this.

Nimloth ran to the throne room when she heard the noises of elves shouting and metal clanging. She died before she got to the door, cut down by Celegorm without a second glance. Her sons were locked in their room, hiding behind their bed as their mother had instructed.

Dior was ready for them when they entered the room. He stood, wonderful and terrible at his throne. His sword was drawn and his face was twisted in rage and pain. He had no thought for his own life, no thought for the Silmaril as he attacked the first elf he saw, Celegorm. While the others fought around him, he fought with the elf who he'd seen kill his wife. They fought hard and long and in the end, they both lay dead on the floor, their lifeblood draining onto the cold stone around them.

The nurse grabbed her charge and they hid in a secret room that had been built for just such a purpose. No one found Elwing though her brothers suffered a much worse fate, being taken prisoner only to be left in the forest to die by the brothers' followers.

Caranthir and Curufin had fared no better than Celegorm had, one dying at the hand of a boy not yet mature who knifed him in the back like the Kinslayer he was once and had become yet again. The other was killed by the captain of Dior's personal guard, slit from ear to ear before the elf fell himself to another's blade.

The fight and the cleanup lasted not more than two hours and the Fëanorians followers left just before the sun set on their dastardly day.

*

Oropher had been out hunting. Cold weather and snow bothered him little. He had killed a nice buck for his wife and son and was well pleased. He saw the fires before he reached the Caves. He dropped the buck and began to run.

Nothing could have prepared him for the carnage he saw when he entered the city. The dead lay all around. Most were his own neighbors and kin but there were enough Fëanorians to know that they'd fought back and fought back hard.

He looked at every face of every woman and every child, looking for his own dear wife and son. There were many dead but none were his family.

He came at last to the throne room and found his king and Celegorm, lying dead with each elf's sword in the other as if locked in combat still after their deaths. He found Caranthir with his head separated from his body. Someone had cut his head off after the captain of the guard had killed him. Curufin lay dead with a child's knife buried all the way to the hilt in his back.

Oropher finally sat down and wept. Never in all his years had he seen such carnage, such evil. And it all came from the Fëanorians and their damned Oath. Time passed unaccounted for Oropher until he finally rose to his feet and left the city that had once been a glorious kingdom but was now dead forever.

Several weeks passed before he found his wife and son. They had escaped with a handful of refugees to the Mouths of Sirion. One of those refugees was young Elwing, with the Silmaril hanging on a chain beneath her dress.

Oropher packed his family up and moved them to what would one day be the Green Wood. He never spoke of what he saw to anyone, not even his wife nor his son. He looked forward always.

Except in his nightmares.

~end~

**Author's Note:**

> I was not sure what to do with this challenge. I have never written much about the Feanorians and nothing about the three brothers who were requested. I could find nothing good or sweet about them so this is what I came up with. This represents their vilest deed and its aftermath.   
> Thanks to my beta and to the tireless efforts of the Yuletide mods.


End file.
